


Untitled

by dropdeadadorable



Series: Doctor Stiles [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-26
Updated: 2012-09-26
Packaged: 2017-11-15 02:54:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dropdeadadorable/pseuds/dropdeadadorable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is the Doctor, Derek is his grumpy companion. That's pretty much it</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't really know what to put here. I mean, I was bored, it was late, and instead of doing something productive I decided I was going to write about 380 words of Doctor Who and Teen Wolf crossover. Because yeah that's a thing I do... (Also the Doctor and Stiles have a club called the Let's Hate on Ourselves Club. Acting members also include Tony Stark and Dean Winchester. Just saying.)

Derek woke up to a pounding in his head and a whirring outside his window. The pounding he could live with. That stemmed from the five beers he had yesterday night. The whirring, though, was a different matter. 

Rubbing his aching temples, he walked over to his window and pulled back the blinds. In the middle of his street was a big blue box of some sort. Wait what? He shook his head, and made to walk back to the comfort of his sheets and of sleep. Clearly he was still stuck in dreamland.

Right about then, of course, the door to the box opened, and a kid emerged. He said kid because this guy, although probably old enough to drink and drive (not at the same time obviously, just in general) was at least a few years younger than him, if the blurred version of his face that he could see was anything to go by. (The kid was wearing a red hoodie, pulled up over his head, which made it sort of hard to see his face.)

Anyone with any sense would have gone back to bed right then. Derek had consumed five bottles of alcohol last night, he clearly was lacking in the sense department. So he slipped on some shoes and ran outside.

“Hey,” he called, jogging up to the kid. “What’s up with the box?”

“Oh,” Kid looked back over his shoulder and shrugged, like he had forgotten the thing was there. “That’s my TARDIS. Ain’t she beautiful? I call her Lydia. Anyway, what’s your name, stranger.”

“Derek.” He reached out a hand, like a polite member of society, and not a guy with a massive hangover and inability to communicate, for some inexplicable reason. “I live up there.” Gesturing to the apartment building, he began to turn. Maybe he’d finally get some rest, now. Or at least take some Advil.

“You know, I think I’ll call you Sourwolf. You look like a sourwolf.” What’s your response to that supposed to be, seriously? “Hey Sourwolf! What do you say to an adventure?”

There was a nice warm room waiting for him upstairs, if only he left the weird kid whose name he did not yet know alone. Instead, Derek turned around and said, “What exactly do you mean?”


End file.
